


i'm covered in shells

by raikkonen (armario)



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Sickfic, Singapore Grand Prix 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21660796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armario/pseuds/raikkonen
Summary: In sickness and in health.[Singapore GP, 2019].
Relationships: Esteban Ocon/Sergio Perez
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40





	i'm covered in shells

**Author's Note:**

> REAL ONES WILL KNOW that the song 'a simple kind of life' has so much meaning to me. and for some reason, when gwen stefani said 'i'm covered in shells', that changed my entire life. it summed up my whole BEING. and that kind of yearning i really think suits this fic. 
> 
> checo WAS ill at the singapore gp. i first drafted this fic during the race lmao. (i do that a lot).
> 
> gifted to becks, who's one of my best friends in the world, and the most dedicated chocon shipper i know.

Esteban hurries to the Racing Point area, hoping to see Checo. He heard the Mexican is not very well, and naturally, he took that as an opportunity to throw himself into the lion's den. 

"Have you seen Checo?" he asks a staff member, smiling brightly. He doesn't recognise her; clearly they've had some new staff in since he was here, but it doesn't matter. He can charm his way into or out of anything. 

"Actually," she laughs, holding out a flask, "I was just going to bring him some tea." 

"Can I do it?" he asks, way too eagerly. He thinks maybe she'd be disappointed, maybe this is her only time to interact one-on-one with the driver she works for; but she grins. 

"Sure." 

She hands him the flask and points him in the right direction. 

This brings back memories, he thinks innocently as he taps on Checo's door. 

He thinks he recognises the grumbled reply as _adelante._

The scowl that appears on Checo's face when he sees who's at the door makes Esteban crack up. 

"Fucking hell, man," he sniggers. "You look shit." 

Checo glares at him. He's been on the receiving end of that glare too many times for it to affect him. 

Still, the Mexican accepts the flask of tea without comment. He looks kind of cute wrapped up in blankets, sniffling and red-eyed. Esteban has some sense of self preservation, so he doesn't voice those thoughts out loud.

He resists the urge to gather Checo up in his arms and curl around him. Instead, he sits beside him on the couch, tugging at the duvet wrapped around the afflicted driver. Checo permits him to raise the flask to his mouth, and he takes a small mouthful before Esteban sets it aside.

"How are you feeling?" he asks. 

"Not good," Sergio replies tiredly. "I don't know if I will be able to drive. My head hurts so bad."

Esteban frowns in sympathy. "Cherie. Can I give a massage?" 

Checo looks at him sharply. 

"Who let you in here?" he asks sullenly.

Esteban just smiles widely and settles beside him. He pulls Checo down to rest against him, who allows it to happen- either because he misses their contact, or because he's too sick to object. Esteban has no desire to find out which and risk disappointment.

"You are a strange one," Checo drawls. "I'm ill, what is your excuse?"

"Can't I visit my favorite ex-teammate?"

"I'm like your only ex-teammate."

"No. But you're still my favorite." 

Checo twists a little to look up at Esteban from where he is tucked into his chest. 

"You know, you'll never have this with anyone else," he says thoughtfully. "Another teammate, anyway."

"Quiet," Esteban answers, irritated, his good mood disappearing in an instant. Checo always does this. He always ruins the moment. 

"You should find a girlfriend," the Mexican mutters roughly. "Stop being this stupid."

"I said _quiet,"_ Esteban says with a strained quality to his voice. His hands still their movements carding through Sergio's hair. 

Checo falls silent. Too often their arguments turned heated and personal, neither quite certain of which offhand comment had sparked them in the first place. Esteban is glad this isn't one of those occasions. After a moment, he goes back to petting Checo's hair.

Checo soon surrenders to sleep. He's too tired to put up his Esteban-specific front, which involves deliberate withholding of physical closeness, and a spiteful, recurring emphasis on their incompatibility. 

He looks relaxed, and so much more handsome without the frown he normally directs towards his ex-teammate. Esteban imagines this isn't a one off, and when Checo wakes up, it will be to his lover's arms around him, not the memories of last year's clash, and the beginning of the end. 


End file.
